


Prompts

by Malaper



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Work In Progress, probably fluff, this is my first something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malaper/pseuds/Malaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been loving for a while all your works post season 3 and well, I think it's time to shake everything up and do something.</p><p> </p><p>Not beta read, not nothing, just some random girl trying to cope with things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Free

\- It’s time. Go get him.

Will looked at the shore. It was a beautiful noiseless shore. All painted in yellows and soft browns. The dock was placidly close to a property, two floors and a loft, a garden looking disheveled through time, a porch facing a narrow path that was lost in shadows and trees.

Chiyoh finished settling the footbridge inevitably joining the boat and the land.

Will turned around and descended through the narrow deck stairs until he found the door he was looking for. He didn’t knock. He didn’t doubt. He opened that door like something he was very used to do it.

Hannibal looked over his shoulder. He was finishing his clothing, slowly slipping a jacket over his right arm, clearly still in pain with the movement. Will quickly approached the man and helped him with the garment. Hannibal sighed and using Will as a leverage- supporting some of his weight over the shoulder of the smaller man- he walked out free and alive from the boat, slowly walking the footbridge, slowly walking the garden and slowly smiling to the light, the garden, the sun and the house.

Will felt Hannibal completely absorbed by the light. Because the light has been sometimes inclement during their navigation, but here you could feel sweetness in its touching, rounding the shapes and brightening the features of his companion. Feeling, after three years of 24 hours artificial light and six years of solitude, free.


	2. Sleep

When you have to sleep in a new place, it takes a while making your brain to shut up. When you sleep for the first time in a new boat and your health has been recently seriously compromised, you’re brain it’s burning for a long time until you find the peace of mind needed to drift off.  
But at this point Will didn’t want to sleep. Not until he was sure the I.V with paracetamol was correctly dripping into his stream blood. Not until he was sure the fever has recede. Not until his breath was easy and even.

And with everything checked and in its right place, Will Graham laid his head on the pillow next to Hannibal’s and tried to sleep.

\- It’s not going to be that simple, isn’t it? – he muttered after a while.

Will has built a fort, locking up all his concerns about everything that has occurred during the past weeks. And Will is very good at ‘not to think about it’ but his body has its own ways and he is not able to control his cells and his aches. He’s not good at all at ‘not to feel’. So Will feels the boat. He smells the varnished wood and the damp inside the sheets. He hears the incessant creak of the hull and the wind blowing between the masts. And he sees Hannibal’s right hand in front of his eyes, the weight of his hand deforming the surface of the pillow and the palm facing the roof, fingers slightly opened. Will drags his gaze to the wrist, knowing what’s going to see there. A fine scar, irregular and pale.  
This silvered line is as far as Will Graham dares to look. He can feel a weight inside his eye balls pulling his gaze, urging him to continue his journey along the arm until the armpit, the shoulder, the clavicles and the neck.

Oh, the neck.

But Will is not brave enough today. Will is going to stay at the wrist.

Deeply inhaling his familiar scent, Will Graham drifts to sleep.


	3. Spell

Greeks thought about the power of the name. Plato knew -positively knew- the power of identity. Six years fighting against each other to have their own and cojoined identity had taught him.  
At the beginning of their acquaintance Hannibal manipulated Will in every possible way. It is well known one of the means of mental manipulation is getting the other's attention. How desperately Hannibal loved Will he could not stop repeating his name. Will. Will. Will. It became a lethany and a curse. Will was quite surprised about how many times Dr. Lecter repeated his name. While Hannibal was thinking why the act of repeat it itself didn't magically make Will see how magnificent creature he was. Will Will Will. Only three times Hannibal has hear his name in Will's lips.  
Over the cliff, hitting the ocean his name was the last thing Hannibal heard. Wispered in his ear and carved in Will's embrace. And a though of strangness crossed his mind before everything was gonne.  
That's a funny thing because this jump finished with his name again floting in the foggyness of that moment.  
Am I alive? Why am I listening my name? Am I listening from Will's mouth?  
Those first times he was still jumpy when he heard his name. He thought maybe due to his health state and physical weakness. "Hannibal" Just nothing. Just something very light, like a sigh.  
"Hannibal, here, drink something"  
Hannibal tried to fight against the fog, dragged by this way to say his name.  
"Hannibal"  
Now the tone was concerned.  
"Hannibal"  
When you scold a little child.  
"You have fever. Shit"

Hannibal didn't know how many days are gonne but he didn't remember hearing his name for a long time. Until one day, he hears it clearer.  
"Ha-nni-bal"  
Leaded by Will's rough voice. Clearer in his ears. Will's voice reverberating in his own throat. Hannibal. Even clearer this time.  
"Yes, Will".

He's not used to hearing his name freely floting from Will's lips. He enjoys every way Will's mouth can say his name. First doubitely, securer every time. He particularly enjoys the "Hannibals" commanding him to turn around to change the bandage -usually followed by two tiny taps in his arm-. He is very surprised of how much he likes the way Will says his name in an escalate of irritation when Hannibal refuses to be refreshed, as Will politely put it, with a wet cloth.  
"Don't be a child, I've done it a dozen times by now"  
Will sighs.  
"Really? Hannibal?"  
Oh, when he's a bit dissapointed he drags the final a. Like Hannibaaaal. "Hannibaaaaal, I warn you, you stink"  
And Hannibal finally obeys and turns over to be washed like a kitten. Time pass. Those "Hannibals" are gaining confidence. Will uses it for everything. For going to fish. For asking for another cup of coffee. For fucking call him for God's sake.  
But the Hannibals he most love are the ones whispered in his ear, in his bed. Like a pray. Like his Hannibal. Hannibal, my love, my life, my darling. Those Hannibals that are sunk in his flesh by Will's teeth, carved in his shoulder when Will cames, gripping his arm. Those Hannibals, sighed when Will crawls his head and nuzzles under his chin. Quickly repeated three times HannibalHannibalHannibal when Will is about to see so many stars he's afraid of going too far away and he needs to stop.  
Sometimes he never gets to hear his complete name. Just the first syllabe. Oh, those are very enjoyable times. When Will is so pleadging, so eager that his Hannibals cant be ended.  
Haaaaaa.  
Then it is Hannibal the one who drowns his teeth into Will's shoulder and gets blood. And he can't hear his name spell in English or any other known languaje but he can hear it in Will's feral tongue, in Will's feral moans and screams.  
This is a spell he can't fight against for.


	4. Say something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This scene from TWOTL, once again.

He didn’t have time to process what was happening.

As soon as Will got in, Hannibal left the massacre in less than 3 seconds. Instinctive reactions for deeply rooted thoughts.

The first minute none of them spoke. Hannibal speed up restlessly until he realized that behavior could be suspicious. At some point he was aware what’s was happening inside the car. Will was panting. Like I’m about to have a panic attack panting.

‘Will, I need you to breath’

‘I…. I can’t. I can’t’

‘Yes you can. Just like before, Will. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Breathe in. Breath out’

The words made Will smiled bitterly between gasping but his brain also registered this was going to be the only way to not burst inside his skull.

Will breathed in.

Will breathed out.

Several minutes went away until Will got his senses back. Of course Hannibal remained calmed. Eyes fixed on the road and head slightly tilted to Will’s side.

‘Better?’

‘Yeah…’

Hannibal smelled the subtle scent of Will’s restrained rage and an intense emotion rushed in from his chest to his loins. He registered it as the purest form of love he has ever experienced in his whole life. And he thought about how pathetic love has made him. He thought about the great speech he was going to give Will as soon as they had a minute alone. The thousand different ways he would praise his beloved. He thought and thought but not even a word came out of his throat. Neither Will.

 

_(*Well, why is nobody saying anything here? The writer asks herself. SAY SOMETHING YOU TWO*)_

 

Silence stretched out some minutes more while Will’s neurons tried to figure it out. Are you hurt? Where are we going? Is it far? Is it safe? Will you hurt me? Are you sure Dolarhyde will follow us? But none of these questions left his mouth.

Instead of talking, Will sink himself in the seat and rested his head to the window, this time having time to process the scape. Was Hannibal really here? In a car? Exercising his agency over the world again? With me?

He sat up straight again astonished looking at the man. They were really together and really running away.

‘Pull over’

‘Sorry?’

‘Just for a minute’

‘I’m afraid the schedule it’s not in our favor, Will’

‘Thirty seconds’

Hannibal pulled over in a cloud of dust and steered at Will. Waiting. Will bent over Hannibal’s right shoulder and put his forehead on it, grabbing the wrist settled at the steering wheel, deeply breathing and closing his eyes.

‘We’re good. Yeah. This is good. We can go on’

Hannibal was overwhelmed with Will’s scents right under his nose and with Will’s hand, rubbing his forearm and stealing his good sense.

‘As you wish, Will’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what Bryan Fuller (bless him) said about this trip. But, as I said, my characters don't talk a lot.


	5. Mr. Graham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiyoh talks. Something.

When Will woke up he felt a soreness like he had never felt before, even after Hannibal stabbed him. Dizzy, dirty, sticky and with a horrible taste in his mouth he finds himself in a small wooden room and discovers Hannibal's body laid down next to him. He didn’t remember how they got there but he did remember Chiyoh. He recalled how Chiyoh has literally pulled him out of the ocean grabbing him by his stained shirt, Will fought to be left to die until exhaustion and blood loss had won the battle and he passed out over the deck of the boat, after whispering ‘no’ and ‘we're supposed to die’. Then Chiyoh covered him with a blanket and run into trying to stop Hannibal from dying.  
But now Will sees Hannibal's arm from the corner of his eye, an IV running low and dripping something in his system. He sees the soft rise of his chest.

_He's alive. And so do I._

  
Bitterness. That's what Will is tasting in his mouth. The rush of adrenaline after killing together Dolarhyde long gonne. Bitterness because nothing has come to an end. Bitterness because he is in the same spot than three years before. How could have this happened? Again. How was anything to be normal? Again. Will is feeling nausea but he doesn’t know where the bathroom is so he deeply breathes in, or as deeply as he manages, and raises up like an old man. Slowly. And slowly walks to an open bedroom door. There, the hall drives him into a small living room, fireplace burning and Chiyoh sat by the fire, patiently carving a wood stick into something more dangerous.

  
_\- You're awake._  
_\- Yes._  
_\- He is not. Yet._  
_\- For how long?_  
_\- 2 days since the cliff._

  
Will remains silence.

  
_\- I'll bring you soup. Sit here._

 

Will eats alone while Chiyoh is doing something in the bedroom, _maybe changing the I.V_ , Will thinks. Chiyoh is back when he is finished with his bowl.

  
_-You should return to bed, Mr. Graham._

  
Will snorts the command and the formal address but Chiyoh doesn’t drop her grave attitude. Like she ever did it.

  
_-I prefer the sofa_ \- Will retorts.

  
She didn’t say a thing at that point. And she didn’t even during the next week with Will spending every hour on the sofa. Chiyoh doesn’t wonder why _Mr. Graham_ refuses to see Hannibal or refuses taking care of him. She doesn’t wonder why he ignores everything that’s happening across the hall.

Will spends the week looking into the fire, drifting, trying to understand how he got himself into this situation. Eating canned soup. Trying not to hear the inner voice yelling the truth. Despite the obvious circumstances, Will still holds himself onto the previous reality: being a caring father and a proper human being.

  
On the day 9th the weather gets warmer and Will is strong enough to ask Chiyoh about how they got there. Chiyoh tells him there is a boat and a small harbor going down the private road, very close to the cabin. She tells him where they are and how Will could get to a police station in less than 3 hours.

 _\- Or you could go to the nearest village and bring me more antibiotics. He needs them._  
_\- You should have left us to die, Chiyoh._  
_\- I didn’t save you, Mr. Graham. I saved HIM._

But Will doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t leave the sofa and he doesn’t get the antibiotics.

In the next 24 hours Hannibal gets worse. Will sees how Chiyoh's concern grows. He looks at the small cabinet where the antibiotics are low.

  
_\- I can’t leave his side, he's too critical right now. If you go now Mr. Graham he will probably die._

After a moment Chiyoh continues with despise, unloading the stress she's been carrying the whole week

 _\- Please, go._   _I can’t stand your sight anymore._

 

They both remained silence. Everyone considering their options.

  
_You saw the charming doctor, Mr. Graham. Then, you saw the awful monster. And for many time you refused to see anything else. But now you have the opportunity to see the man._

**Author's Note:**

> My characters don't talk a lot.


End file.
